


Stay

by OlicityIBelieve



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Comfort & sex, F/M, Post funeral, angsty smut, post 4x19
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-06-05 00:02:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6681289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OlicityIBelieve/pseuds/OlicityIBelieve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post 4x19 - After Laurel’s funeral, Oliver and Felicity are tired of fighting their feelings. <br/>They give in to the temptation of life and love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, Bre, my dear dear friend, I cannot thank you enough for fixing my Frenglish, correcting my absence of contractions and making this fic flow thanks to your magic. I love you wonderful woman!

 

* * *

Felicity closes the door of the loft softly behind her mom and Captain Lance. She leans forward and presses her forehead against the cold metal and gives herself a moment to breathe.

The funeral took place this morning and it feels like all her energy has been drained out of her body, a part of her soul buried in the grave with her. She said goodbye to a friend today. A friendship that blossomed in her heart the most surprising way but that she will cherish until her last day.

Felicity is exhausted. She’s exhausted after a sleepless night by Captain Lance, ensuring he doesn’t do anything stupid, making sure he doesn’t go near a bottle of alcohol, supporting her mother as Donna talks him out of doing something he would regret. She’s exhausted of the pain, of the tears, of the sleepless nights and of the solitude of her life. She’s exhausted of losing people close to her heart, exhausted of that emptiness that is growing inside of her, of the icy feeling taking over her heart. Anger has helped her going through these difficult days, just like it helped her moving on from Oliver. Still leaning against the door, she lets a chuckle out, tasting the irony as that thought sinks in. Who is she fooling? Not herself for sure. Maybe not even him. There’s no moving on from him. He’s a part of her and she’s tired of fighting her love for him, of fighting herself.

“You’re okay?” she hears behind her. She turns to John who is holding baby Sara in his arms. She’s fast asleep against him and the adorable vision of this tiny, innocent and pure human cuddled against the broad chest of her father gets a smile out of her. The first in a long time. Felicity walks slowly towards the toddler, caressing her head before kissing her temple.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” she replies in a voice that refutes her answer before heading towards the empty lounge area.

Lyla, Thea and Oliver are all cleaning up now that the last guests have left. Oliver insisted on hosting the funeral reception at the loft, allowing everyone to gather in a familiar and welcoming space. The silence of the loft is now only disrupted by the clinking of the glasses and cutlery being washed, the food being thrown away, the chairs being put back into place. No one feels like talking, no words needed as long as they’re together, the presence of each other reassuring and comforting after the terrible loss of one of them.

Felicity can’t help but lingering on Oliver. He’s facing away from her but she can tell from the stiffness of his shoulders, the harshness of his movements that the ice of his eyes hasn’t melted since their ride back home in the limo. Her heart clenches under the memory of the piercing silence between them as they rode back to what she used to call home. Remembering the distance between them in the car - when the only thing she’d craved for was throwing herself in his arms to forget the pain running through her veins - sends chills through her entire body. She needs him so uncontrollably it hurts .

Fighting herself, Felicity heads away from him, towards the fire pit, the former familiarity of the space making her heart tighten. The table next to the fire is still full of dirty plates and half empty glasses. As her eyes roam over the overwhelming amount of leftovers, her eyes stop on the smiling face, forever immortalized on the silky paper. She grabs the eulogy leaflet with shaking hands. The idea of not seeing Laurel ever again is alienating. She looks so alive, so present in this picture. She expects the district attorney to call her at any time, confirming a lead or announcing a successful prosecution. Felicity feels an uncontrollable sadness and tiredness take over her body. The tears she kept at bay today threaten to fall, the pain of losing a friend threatening to wash over her, leaving her raw and numb.

Felicity’s shaky legs force her to find the nearest seat, on the leather couch she and Oliver used to spend hours on, relaxing in each other’s presence. She leans back against the slick leather, her eyes watching the ceiling without seeing it, the paper clenched against her chest. She feels her eyes burning under the fire of the unshed tears that she can’t contain anymore. Tears roll silently down her cheeks as she lets the emptiness take over her. She doesn’t feel anything… or maybe she feels too much. She doesn’t know anymore. She doesn’t know anything anymore. How has her life become so complicated, so painful, so dark? She doesn’t want to fight right now. She just wants to feel something that isn’t pain.

Tears go on falling. Felicity closes her eyes. She wants to be somewhere where life is easy and warm, where she’s happy and smiling, where she laughs and feels alive. Bali. She thinks of Bali. Felicity focuses on her memories of their time away, the endless immaculate beaches, the warmth of the sun on her skin, the delicious sensation of the water on her feet, the perfection of Oliver’s body against hers.

All her memories blend into a mixture of pain and pleasure, regrets and delights, sadness and happiness. It’s too much for her, too much to absorb, too much to handle. It drags her into the darkness, on and on, until she reaches that place where she doesn’t know if she’s conscious or way too awake, where the pain begins and where life stops. Everything is darkness. Everything is cold. Felicity gives in and lets the darkness submerge her.

* * *

 

Felicity doesn’t feel cold anymore. She can feel the softness of something against her skin. A blanket maybe? The flames of the adjacent fire warm her skin like the sun of Bali. For the first time in a few days, she enjoys the silence around her. She senses his presence next to her. The comfort she feels at this very moment comes from the only person she wants by her side right now. Oliver. She hears more than she feels the caress of his fingers on her hair. His index follows the curve of her cheek, barely touching her. She feels good, she feels safe, she feels home.

Home.

Home doesn’t exist anymore. Home is where the heart is. She can’t interpret what her heart’s been trying to say for weeks. The pain growing in her chest brings her back to reality. She doesn’t have a home anymore. There’s no such thing for her anymore. Reluctantly, Felicity opens her eyes. The tears have left them sore and swollen. She winces when her head throbs at the movement. She tilts her head to see him crouched down at her feet, far enough not to be intrusive but closer than he has been for weeks.

“Hey,” he whispers in a husky voice she didn’t know she missed so much. He’s about to put a hand on her knee in a familiar motion but he catches himself, stopping the movement before touching her skin, his fingers rubbing together in a nervous movement.

“You fell asleep,” he goes on, his voice warm and so familiar. She knows that voice. She tried to forget the loving and caring tone of his voice but she knows it by heart. She’s heard it so many times. Felicity’s soul wants to reach for him, to cuddle in his arms and lose herself in his embrace. She misses him so much it hurts every cell in her. But this can’t be. It cannot be anymore.

“I’m sorry,” Felicity replies, pushing the blanket aside. She looks around her, a bit disorientated. The loft is impeccable, very much looking like the last time she saw it, the day she gave Oliver his ring back. She buries the memory deep inside of her, her eyes betraying her for half a second, the pain not lost to Oliver’s eyes.

“Everyone left a few minutes ago,” he answers the silent question he reads on her face, standing up before burying his hands in his pockets.

She lets a small, “Oh,” out before standing up herself. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry.” She looks at him, unsure of what the next move should be. Oliver’s presence is everywhere, so close, so familiar, so necessary.

“You never, ever have to apologize to me Felicity.” The look on his face is intense. For the first time in weeks she looks him in the eye. She sees him. She sees her. She sees them. He doesn’t hide anything from her. Not right now. She sees the reflection of her own heart. Their regrets, their love, their pain, their struggles. And again, it’s more than she can handle right now. In a shaky breath, Felicity looks away, the burn in her soul overwhelming.

Oliver takes a step back, the pain on his face evident. He doesn’t even try to hide it. There’s no reason to hide. No reason to lie. They both know how miserable they feel deep inside. A part of their soul is missing. For once, he just wants to hold her, to be here for her, to feel her against him, to breathe in the scent of her neck and let go of the pain. He wants to feel alive again. But instead he gives her some space, some time for her to gather her things. She searches for her purse and jacket in the loft. Hands still buried in his pockets, he observes her. He’s still amazed at seeing her on her feet, walking like nothing ever happened. The excruciating pain of not being hers anymore is nothing compared to the pride and love she still inspires in him.

Felicity comes back to him. “I have everything so I’m gonna head out now,” she murmurs, unsure of her behavior. She plays with her keys nervously. “Thank you for hosting this today… Thank you,” she finishes in a weak smile.

“You’re welcome,” he answers, his voice still low. A shiver takes over Felicity’s body, responding to the tone of his voice. Her fingers itch to touch him. The air catches in her lungs as she looks at him. She loves him so much. She still loves him and it has never hurt so much.

Felicity turns around, heading towards the door. Oliver’s head drops, his eyes shutting. One step. Two steps. She stops. Oliver can’t help but look at her expectantly. For long seconds, not a word is spoken. They barely breathe. Felicity’s chin drops to her chest. She fights tears and a profound desire that has been buried for too long. Hesitation is killing her but so is fear and regret.

“Felicity.” It’s only a murmur. She could have dreamed it if not for the shiver that runs down her spine at the plea in his voice.

In an instant she knows. She knows she is done fighting, ignoring her feelings and pushing him away. She turns around, facing him, maybe really seeing him for the first time in days. His eyes are full of tears, his shoulders hunched and she sees nothing but the pain ravaging the man she loves.

Without breaking eye contact, she walks slowly to him, afraid that the smallest noise will break the bond. She stops only a few inches from him, her face lifted to his. Before realizing it, both her hands are cupping his face, her thumbs stroking his cheeks in a soothing gesture. She wants to remove the pain from his features. She wants a smile to brighten his face and warm her heart.

Felicity’s hands slide from his cheeks to the back of his head, pulling him down to her. As their foreheads touch, Oliver’s arms wrap around her waist. His embrace is soft, relaxed. Neither of them dares moving. They have been apart for so long that this physical contact is both alienating and extremely familiar. It feels like home. Felicity feels his fingers rub small circles at the base of her spine and she can’t help but sigh softly. She raises her eyes to meet his. And then all hell breaks loose.

One second they’re look lovingly into each other’s eyes and the next, their lips crash together, their kiss demanding, furious, insatiable. Their hands follow the same ferocity. Felicity pulls on Oliver’s short hair, bringing him closer to her, always closer as he pushes her jacket off her shoulders frantically. Passion runs through their veins, flooding their system. The dam of feelings they kept up for so long is now breached. Nothing or no one able to stop this wave of life, love and desire. They need more. More skin, more contact, more them. Their tongues battle in a fight that neither can win. Felicity struggles to get rid of Oliver’s tie, her hands shaky with anticipation. Oliver doesn’t lose a second, unzipping her dress, his hands ravaging the skin of her back, making her moan.

The tie discarded on the floor, Felicity tries to focus on the buttons of his shirt but Oliver is not playing fair. His mouth has shifted from her mouth to her neck. The rough contact of his stubble and his teeth on her sensitive skin leaves her panting, looking for air she cannot find. Everything is him. She shuts her eyes under the delicious sensation, tilting her head to the side to give him more access. His hands travel up her spine, her shoulder blades, before gripping her shoulders from behind, pulling her backwards. The top of her chest and her neck are completely exposed to him and he doesn’t hesitate a second to take advantage of it. His tongue and teeth rediscover each inch of her. His need for her has been unleashed and he can’t stop it. He doesn’t want to stop it. His kisses are rough on her sensitive skin, triggering a delicious mix of pain and pleasure.

“Oliver,” Felicity whispers against his hair. She can’t move, only gripping his shirt until her knuckles turn white. She is completely at his mercy and there’s nothing else she wants right now. “Oliver…Oliver, please,” she begs. Oliver obliges, not before biting one last time her neck, dragging a sharp cry from her.

Hands flying on the buttons of his shirt, Felicity finds his lips first, surprising him by the intensity of her kisses. The surprise doesn’t last as lust overfloods his system. He can’t think, he can’t process anything. The only thing he knows is that she’s in his arms, demanding, wild, whole, unstoppable and he does his best to reciprocate her attention.

His shirt is finally open and Felicity pulls on the sides to take it off him, barely aware of the resistance around his wrists. He helps her get rid of the piece of clothing, ripping the fabric apart. She doesn’t have time to touch his torso - he’s already bending over to pick her up. One arm firmly wrapped around her waist, the other one under her knee, he presses her body against his, her legs around his waist bringing her even closer to him. Her grip is strong and her hips already start to roll against him, sending painful waves of pleasure in him. He groans against her lips, unable to contain his desire for her. As much as love allowed them to maintain a more than healthy sexual life after the shooting, the raw desire she triggers in him by moving her hips and gripping him tight reminds him how much he missed her sexual appetite. As he turns to sit on the couch, she nibbles the skin of his neck, lavishing the soft spot near his pulse point before heading up, licking his lobe. Her teeth soon take over, sending waves of lust straight to his core. He lets himself fall on the couch, Felicity straddling his lap. Using the floor to provide leverage, Oliver raises his hips, rubbing against Felicity’s center. Her head flies back, abandoning his ear, a pant on her lips.

He grabs the back of her head and forces her to lock her eyes with his. The lust and craving she sees in them does nothing but feed her own desire for him. Deliberately slowly, a smile on his face, he pushes his hips up once more, waiting for her reaction. Fighting the pleasure that radiates from her core through her entire body, not willing to let him win that battle that easily, Felicity bites a moan back, raising an eyebrow in challenge. She knows she’s lost when he lifts the hem of her dress up, sliding a hand down to her center, first playing with the band of her panties before slipping inside the material. Oliver tugs on the fabric, smiling at her as he rips the material apart. He can feel the warmth of her core even before touching it. Felicity raises her hips slightly, giving him more room to touch her. With two fingers, he slides between her lips, tracing a line from her entrance to her clit. The sharp cry of pleasure she responds with astonishes him. Never has he felt her so reactive, so warm against his touch. The sexual delight that had been denied to her for so many weeks after her injury is now throbbing in her system,    her pleasure evident and stronger than ever. He takes a very quick mental note to thank Curtis for this… or maybe not. He would struggle explaining him the circumstances.

Felicity forces herself to keep her eyes on his. She bites her bottom lip to avoid begging for more. He drags his fingers back down, flattening his palm against her clit in a way only he could master. She’s  wet, she’s so wet for him, and his control almost snaps. Letting go of her hair, Oliver moves his hand to her hip, urging her to lower herself further on his fingers. Felicity tries to fight his directions, smiling in challenge at him, knowing that they’ll both win in this battle. His lips head with a torturous slowness to hers and as she closes the gap between them, he sharply pushes her hip down, his two fingers filling her warmth, stretching her deliciously. He silences her moans by pulling her even closer, her entire body under his control, writhing from the pleasure he’s ruthlessly giving her.

Her hips automatically roll against him, seeking more friction, more pleasure. His fingers are relentless and the pleasure she thought she could never experience again leaves her breathless.  Everything she feels, everything she touches, everything she tastes is him. He is everything at this very moment and she loses herself in that sensation. She grips his shoulders tighter, her nails digging into his flesh. The pleasure she’s experiencing feels familiar, yet the intensity surprises her. She’s never felt ready so quickly, his fingers bringing her to the edge rapidly. Too rapidly. She wants him so much more than this. She freezes, her forehead in the crook of his neck, trying to catch her breath.

“Oliver, I need you… please… not like this.” She raises her head and leans towards him, their forehead connecting for the second time tonight. “I need you,” she repeats one more time, her voice barely a breath against his lips.

There’s nothing like a game between them anymore. Just a raw and primal desire to feel each other, to be each other, to be one. Oliver contemplates Felicity for a few seconds, slowing removing his fingers from her center, taking in her disheveled appearance. Slowly he raises a hand and slides her dress down one shoulder, then the second one, gathering the material around her hips. He takes his time to stare into the blue of her eyes when he unclasps her bra, leaving her almost naked under his scrutiny. All of a sudden, the atmosphere changes. There’s no hurry anymore.

Felicity’s hand travels from his hand to his heart, drawing the Bratva tattoo over his skin. She lays her palm flat on it, marveled by the strength of his heart beat. She leans forwards and places a soft kiss on his pec. The intimacy of the moment catches Oliver’s breath in his throat. He’s  missed her so much. He leans into her, placing a soft kiss in her hair, inhaling her scent. He’s  felt so empty for all these weeks and he finally, maybe for only one ephemeral moment, feels whole. He puts a stray of hair behind her ear and lifts her chin to capture her lips once more. The kiss is soft but deep, the angle perfect when he tilts her head to deepen their connection. He groans under her, the sensuality of her tenderness for him driving his desire even higher.

Her hands are working on his belt, without much success. Reluctantly letting go of his lips, she mutters a, “I hate that belt,” before his hands take over, undoing it quickly, pushing his pants and boxers down as Felicity raises higher on her knees.

She settles back on his lap and the contact of his skin overwhelms her. She feels him hard but so soft against her core, the sensation almost forgotten. She rolls her hips against him, her wetness coating him, sending waves of pleasure through them. She missed him so much, so so much. As the need of feeling him under her palm becomes too strong, she slides slightly up his knees and she grips him tightly. Oliver slumps back against the couch, his head falling back in a soft groan. One of her hands is still against his heart, leaning against him. Her palm is soft and warm against his length and as her hand starts moving up and down, Oliver’s hand flies to her ass, gripping her flesh. His grasp is nowhere near soft. He digs into the flesh of her butt, letting her pleasure him, building his desire, playing with his limits, knowing exactly the pressure and speed he loves the most. He knows he might be hurting her right now and he struggles to contain the intensity of his pleasure. The way she keeps on moving on top of him, rolling her hips naturally against him, her naked form, her breast softly bouncing, doesn’t help his control. He knows that she’s taking as much pleasure pleasuring him as if he was going down on her. The very thought of tasting her again sends a flash of desire through his already overstimulated core and with a growl, Oliver snaps his hand to Felicity’s wrist.

“Come here,” he whispers before pulling her back to him.

Following his lead, one hand still tightly wrapped around his cock, Felicity slides one arm around his shoulder, pushing up on her knees before lowering herself back on him. She guides him to her entrance, pausing for one moment. She loses herself for a moment in his gaze, her entire world revolving around him and the wonderful sensation of feeling that close to him. A proximity on every level. An emotion that feels dangerously close to love. To be loved. To love desperately and completely. Felicity feels her heart break a little and as tears fill her eyes again, Oliver pushes up ever so slightly, providing her with the incentive she needed. As she lowers herself slowly, Oliver sees nothing but pure passion and desire. Her head is thrown back, her breathing is heavy, her skin flushed and glistening under his hands. He almost forgot how tight, warm and wet she used to be in his arms. Buried deeply in her, he focuses on the feeling of her, capturing the very essence of this ephemeral moment, gathering strength from her, from their connection, from what he is afraid to identify as love.

He doesn’t know if they stayed like this, immobile, for seconds, minutes or hours but eventually, his desire is too demanding and the need to move takes over him. As if Felicity felt his unspoken need, she starts moving up and down, lifting her hips in a slow but deep motion. They don’t stop looking at each other, the speed of their thrusts allowing them to maintain the intensity of their gaze.

Small noises escape Felicity’s mouth as her desire grows stronger. She almost forgot the subtlety of their connection, the intensity of her passion, the strength of her desire. Implant or not, she knows she won’t be able to keep this up for too long.  The way her clit hits him every time she thrusts down, the way he meets her movements every single time, the way he adds extra pressure by pinning her down for a few seconds when he is deeply buried inside her before rotating his hips to provide more friction against her clit brings her to the edge in no time. She can feel a steady but powerful pleasure growing in her, the slowness of their movements postponing the inevitable but building the intensity of the wave about to overwhelm her. His name is on her lips and she struggles to breathe as their eyes remain on each other. Her breast rubs painfully against his chest but his arms secure her against him and there’s nowhere else in the world she would feel safer, more loved and more cherished.

“Oliver… Oliver… Please…” she pleads, her voice only a whisper.

“Come for me, Felicity,” he groans, his mouth attacking her neck and his hand moving to bury in her hair, bringing her always closer to him. He keeps his thrusts steady but strong, accentuating the pressure on her center, sending shots of pleasure all through her body.

Felicity can’t control herself anymore, the desire too intense for her. Her hips slam strongly against him, her walls start to tighten around his length and the lustful moans he reacts with encourages her to satiate her desire. She grabs his face and kisses him with all the passion, love and desire she can pour in a kiss. It is sloppy and messy and intense but the eagerness of his response sends her over the edge.

Their lips break apart as her orgasm hits her violently, its intensity unexpected, overwhelming, almost painful. Waves of pleasure ripple through her, one after the other, without beginning or end. Her eyes slip shut, her head falling backwards, her nails digging into his shoulders. Felicity doesn’t see the look on Oliver’s face as he watches her shatter on top of him, the awe in his eyes, the love in his smile. She feels Oliver moving to the rhythm of her orgasm to draw out every second of her pleasure.

After what feels like an eternity, she slumps forwards against him, against the curve of his neck. She catches her breath , still shaken by the intensity of her climax, and peppers his neck with wet kisses, his skin wet and salty under her lips.

As she squeezes him involuntarily one more time with a last wave of pleasure, she feels his hardness buried inside her. Pushing on his chest, her gaze still unfocused, her hair messy from his attention, she starts moving again, more rapidly this time, drawing on her remaining strength to give him as much as he just offered her. She leans backwards a few inches, angling her pelvis in a way that makes him groan in contentment. Oliver follows her movement, leaning forward slightly as both his hands fly back to her ass, gripping the flesh, setting up their new rhythm. The fury she felt in Oliver’s kiss a few minutes ago is back and she grips his biceps as his movements become frantic. She struggles to keep up with him when he spreads his legs wider, opening her to him even more. He leans back until he feels the leather of the couch against his back, bringing Felicity with him. Without exchanging a word, Felicity slides her arms back against his neck, holding him tighter, and lifts her hips by a few inches, allowing him a wider range of movements.

The punishing speed of his thrusts hides nothing of the desperation. Felicity can’t move against him, his hands on her hips maintaining her completely still. As he loses himself in the wet warmth of her core, Felicity keeps kissing him, his neck, his jaw, his ear, whispering his name against his skin as his pleasure peaks rapidly, encouraging him to never stop, never letting go.

When he buries his face against her neck, she knows it won’t take much to bring him over the edge. Felicity slides her knees out, spreading even wider and lowering herself into him. The sudden change in movement tears a cry out from Oliver as he hits the depth of her core, over and over again. He tightens his hold on her waist, burying her completely against his chest. Pleasure pulses through his veins, washing away everything in him. As he hears Felicity panting his name against this hair, he is lost. He shouts her name as he comes, his climax sharp and strong. He tightens his embrace around her even more as the burst of pleasure explodes in him, leaving his mind and body numb.

As Oliver’s body relaxes against Felicity’s body, his embrace softens, his arms release her ever so slightly, his fingers now dancing against her skin. Felicity strokes his hair softly, deposing kisses on the top of his head as her breathing evens out. The desire now satiated, there’s nothing left other than Oliver and Felicity. No anger, no sadness, no regrets, no pain. Just the soothing sensation of being home and feeling loved.

They remain against each other for long minutes, their breathing in sync, their silence comforting, their caresses talking for them. Only when a shiver runs over Felicity’s exposed skin does Oliver move.

With a groan, he slides out of her, lifting Felicity softly. Without releasing her totally, he leans to the side, reaching for the blanket she discarded a few minutes ago. Wrapping it over her shoulders, he imprisons the two of them in a cocoon of warmth. Felicity’s eyes are still closed, the intensity of the moment somehow hard to process. She gives herself a second to enjoy this present Oliver gave her, the appeasement of her soul through the glorification of her senses. She’s not really sure what reality she will find facing her when she opens her eyes and it scares her. Sensing her fear, feeling the very same gripping his heart, Oliver cups her face, lifting her chin up to him. As they open, her eyes meet a soft smile and a loving gaze and Felicity feels like all her worries have been answered. She chuckles at her own reaction before pecking his lips. It feels nice, natural and so does the smile she feels on his lips.

Oliver moves them until they are lying side by side, intertwined. The couch is too narrow and their position uncomfortable but they don’t care, the satisfaction of being in each other’s arms the only thing they really need at this very moment.  uncomfortably on the too narrow couch.

“Stay,” Oliver murmurs against her lips, hope transparent in his voice.

Felicity looks up and answers without hesitation.

“Always and forever.”


End file.
